Next evening I was refreshed beyond measure by a sight of the Pigeon House in the Bay of Dublin; and soon after placed my feet on Irish soil. One whole week, which seemed to be endless, expired before I had an opportunity of seeing my relatives. At the end of that time I could no longer refrain, and made a forced march to the neighbourhood, with a heart as light and devoid of care as may be desired. Every object was delightful. There was nothing like it any where else: the shrubs were so green, the sky was so bright and blue, the air so sweet, and even the earth was more soft and verdant than in other regions of the globe. Having to pass near the residence of a beloved sister, who with her husband and family, occupied a farm at Philipstone, I formed a little plan, and pleased myself with it, of taking 187her by surprise. I accordingly walked slowly to the house, as a wandering veteran in search of lodgings. As I expected, she did not know me; and no wonder. When last in her company, I was a mere gay and laughing youth. Now she saw the weather-beaten sunburnt visage of an unknown soldier, with his knapsack and side-arms, on whose countenance middle age had begun to limn a few serious lines. I began by informing her that my billet directed me to her house for quarter. ‘I take no soldiers here; you cannot be received.’ ‘But you will not be so hard as to turn me away! See how late it is.’ ‘Perhaps it may be; but I cannot provide for the like of you.’ ‘Surely that is not what you mean to say; some of your family are, likely enough, gone soldiering, and what would you think if either of them were served so?’ ‘That cannot happen. I had one brother, younger than myself, who listed in the army; but we shall never see him again. He was killed in battle.’ ‘Indeed! Perhaps I might have known him; pray what was his name?’ ‘Why, if it can be of any consequence to you, it was Thomas.’ ‘To be sure it was, sister; and here he is now. What! do you not know your brother?’ I need not describe the raptures of the interview. I kissed her; she wept for joy; explanations, inquiries, and wonderments, almost without measure or end, succeeded. In a few minutes the report of my arrival got abroad. Some thought it unlikely; others were sure it was impossible, unless the dead could be raised. Indeed, I discovered that letters had been received, stating that I had been slain at Badajos. Ocular demonstration, however, soon settled all debate; and congratulations, such as few but an Irishman yields, were tendered with true sincerity and friendship.